garden metaphor

Early spring is all about growth. Seeds sprout, bulbs emerge, and branches fill with leaves. It’s an exciting time.

By mid-season, everyone is branching out. Creepers move across the ground at a steady pace with flowers popping up along the way. Plants seem to fluff themselves up, growing taller and fuller daily. Like guests at a party, individual plants seek the company of others. Once distinct, they’re all blending at the edges. It’s one of my favorites times in the garden.

Hydrangea and Bellflowers

Campanula, commonly known as Bellflower, hug the patio. Hydrangeas branch out just above.

Alyssum and baby tears

Sweet Alyssum joins the party, merging with baby tears growing along the path.

New Zealand Flax mixes with flowers

New Zealand Flax shades the Anemone which will be covered in white flowers by August. On the subject of white flowers, the Alyssum smells like honey as it takes over the pot. A begonia came back from the frost last year, now shadowing the tiny bulbs below.

Daphne and Bell-flowers

It’s a fun time to explore the garden, too. Here Lindy emerges from behind the wheelbarrow, her green eyes blending with the Daphne and Campanula. I think they’re all sweet.

Mighty Mouse is the garden exception. He’s not the blended edges type. Bright white fur and his stand-out personality defy convention. It’s only fitting that he’s photographed here with a bright orange geranium, craning his neck to see the hummingbird, above.

Growing up with bright red hair and freckles, I had a hard time ‘blending edges’ as well. It took some growing up to get comfortable with my ‘center.’ This wonderful cat and my blended garden are happy metaphors for healthy growth in life.

Do you like to blend at the edges or stand out in the crowd?

Mouse *insisted* on being in the picture.

I planted an entire packet of sunflower seeds, but only one took hold. I’ve seen several fat and happy squirrels around the ‘hood, so I’ve little doubt where they went. That said, I’m more interested in the lone survivor.

Thinking that the surviving plant needed company, I headed back the to garden center and bought six sunflower starters. For awhile the plants were all the same height, but at the three-foot mark, the starter plants set dozens of blooms. The lone survivor continued to grow.

Metaphorically speaking, I can relate. One summer in my middle-school years, I grew from average to tall and stayed that way. Tall and skinny and very much in my own ‘shell’ I stood apart from the others. My pale English skin, tall carriage and bright hair were the antithesis of the California Girl. I was quiet, bookish, and painfully shy, and the occasional target of mean-spirited girls.

Today the surviving sunflower stands tall and straight. The proverbial late bloomer had her turn in the sun. Large leaves attract birds of all stripes. Blooms attracted bees. Now laden with heavy seeds, those mischievous squirrels will be back, but guess what? Times have changed.

This time, she’s ready.

alys and sunflower collage